


Of Returning

by cassowarykisses



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash, Second Age, and also Narvi and the rest of the dwarves, and much of the First Age, mentions of the War of Wrath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassowarykisses/pseuds/cassowarykisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am a smith,” Annatar says at last, “and above all I love to craft new things. In Valinor greater beings than I have already shaped perfection, and I fear that to add would, in truth, be to mar. But here – “ His face lights up, and in that moment Celebrimbor believes he sees a fire in Annatar’s eyes far older than the Trees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Returning

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Tolkien fanfic I've ever written, though I've been in the fandom for a while. I thought of the idea while listening to [this](http://8tracks.com/stygianacrimony/i-gave-you-too-much) fanmix, which is wonderful and you totally check out.

“What led you to return to Middle-Earth?” Celebrimbor asks, unable to hide his curiosity. He hopes it covers his suspicion, scant though it is – he fears sometimes that this is a part of his character, to suspect, and holds that part of his mind tightly in check.

Annatar grins and leans towards the great window of Celebrimbor’s chamber. (It was based on Glorfindel’s recollections of the architecture of Gondolin, but the motifs are drawn from the Doriathrim. Never let it be said that Celebrimbor forgot who his people were.) His eyes are bright and merry, and he gestures out towards the hills, and the Misty Mountains in the distance. “Lord Celebrimbor – how could I not? I saw it only in a few glances during the War of Wrath, but always I remembered its beauty.”

Celebrimbor blinks. “You came with the hosts of the Valar?”

“I came with other Maia of Aul _ë_ ,” Annatar replies. “Our fighting was mostly underground. Morgoth’s power had seeped into the very ground, not to mention the fell creatures who lurked in areas where he had long reigned.”

“Not to mention the sinking of Beleriand,” Celebrimbor says, and almost immediately regrets it. That was necessary, to remove the worst of Morgoth’s evil from the lives of Men and Elves. And, he thinks, remembering Narvi, the lives of Dwarves. And it was not even as if Beleriand held any great joy for him. Eregion was better by far. Even now the memory of the House of Feanor was dulling, even if Celebrimbor did not perhaps deserve that comfort.

Annatar is quiet. “And that,” he agrees at last. He glances up at Celebrimbor. “I am sorry, my lord, for any pain-“ he paused for a moment, as if searching for the right word, “-that may have caused you.”

Shaking his head, Celebrimbor held up a hand. He was glad he had long since learned not to start at others’ words. “No, no, my friend, I prefer the Middle Earth of today. I just wondered why you did not prefer Valinor? Our land cannot have been beautiful, during the war.”

Annatar clicks his tongue. “Hmmm. I said before it was beautiful, but that is not precisely true. Excuse my honesty, Lord Celebrimbor – but Valinor is by far the fairer land.”

Celebrimbor cannot contain a laugh. “Friend Annatar, that I have known since I first set foot on these shores. You would not believe my dismay at the fortresses of the north as a child.” He cuts himself short, then, out of long habit. It has been centuries since anyone has wanted to recall the company of his childhood.

A smile quirks at Annatar’s lips. “I do not blame you! They were solid, and for that we must be thankful, but they did not hold a candle flame to Tirion, or any of the cities of Aman.”

“But,” he continues, “Endor is always shifting, never lingering. Rivers change course and new land becomes desert or delta. Cities rise and fall and change the land they stand on forever.” He hesitates, and hastily amends, “It is not that I do not find Valinor pleasing, it is just . . . “ he trails off, and Celebrimbor finds himself drawn to the minute movements of Annatar’s hands, twitching just so to emphasize his words.

“I am a smith,” Annatar says at last, “and above all I love to craft new things. In Valinor greater beings than I have already shaped perfection, and I fear that to _add_ would, in truth, be to _mar_. But here – “ His face lights up, and in that moment Celebrimbor believes he sees a fire in Annatar’s eyes far older than the Trees. “Here I can do good, for there are people who need – and people who strive – like none do in Valinor.” Annatar sighs with the release of emotion. “Someday,” he says, head turned towards the window, looking out on the far reaches of Middle Earth, “I will explore, as well as teach. I walked through all of Valinor, did you know? Someday – someday I will go into the uttermost east-“ Here Celebrimbor hides a flinch, as he remembers those words all too clearly in the mouth of another of the Ainur. That memory, he is sure, will never fade. Annatar continues without stopping. “I have never seen that land, even in the days before the Elves woke.”

Celebrimbor recovers himself. “I have heard that land is distant from Eru,” he says without much conviction, merely echoing the words of some of the Sindar of Eregion. (In his mind, the tradesmen who come to Khazad-dûm and Eregion must have some of Eru’s favor, to travel so far so often without harm.)

“Distant from the Valar, perhaps,” Annatar says. “But only through a fault of geography, no fault of its inhabitants. Orom _ë_ rides often in the distant corners of the world – they are not sundered from the Valar.” He shrugs sinuously, in a manner that echoes the glimpses of the Maiar Celebrimbor saw during the war. “And even if they were, no part of creation can truly be sundered from Eru. His gift of the spirit is with all of us – Ainur, Elves, Dwarves, Ents, and Men. Once given, it cannot be taken away.”

Annatar turns to Celebrimbor, and for the briefest of moments Celebrimbor thinks he sees a wildness that he remembers from his father and uncles, but it is gone before Celebrimbor can truly recognize it. Something within him stirs with discomfort, but it is small, and easily closed off. He will not distrust the Ainur like his grandfather did, will not fall to paranoia like he did.

Celebrimbor swallows all his doubts, and takes in the fairness of Annatar’s form, the seal of Aul _ë_ upon his hand, the passion which so closely mirrors his own, and speaks: “Have you seen the vaults of Khazad-dûm?” When Annatar shakes his head, his eyes rich with questions, Celebrimbor feels a swell of encouragement, and continues. “There are gemstones arrayed in the ceiling, so it is never dark, and it is so vast, much more populous than Eregion – it goes down and down for miles, deeper than Narvi says I could stand. It frustrates me, but I do not doubt him. At the least it would be hard to stand, for those passages are built for Dwarves alone! But the upper passageways, Annatar – they are worked with skill that I did not see even in Nargothrond, and our alliance has only made them richer.”

He pauses, and takes in the hunger he saw on Annatar’s face. It reminds him of his own, when he catches his reflection in the jewels around his workshop as Narvi speaks of the wonders of Dwarven cities closed to elves.

“I have never seen any of Aulë’s Children,” Annatar murmurs, and closes his eyes, as if remembering some long-ago time. Questions rise in Celebrimbor’s throat – did Aulë hide them from you? did you want to see them? – but he swallows them down. Annatar did not pry into his past, so he will return the courtesy.

But silently, in his heart, he promises to himself – he will not hide his creations away. He will spread them through the nations of Middle-Earth. They will be replicable, they will not aspire to life when souls are not his to create.

Annatar speaks, and breaks his thoughts. “So, Lord Celebrimbor – will you take me to see them?”

Celebrimbor smiles, then, and meets Annatar’s eyes. “I am in need of projects, and Durin’s Folk are ever a fount of ideas. I cannot imagine they would deny you, once they see proof of your skill.” Annatar beams at his words, and what Celebrimbor does not say is this: _I hope this will be the first of many._


End file.
